


Something more than lip service

by skullage



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: Come Sharing, Explicit Sexual Content, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: “Why do you have lipstick?” Minho asks. There’s no judgement in his voice, no laughter in his expression like the glee and surprise in Jiho’s.Seungyoon shrugs. “Kiss Radio. They, uh, never asked for it back.”





	Something more than lip service

**Author's Note:**

> based on a thing i said a very long time ago and also the prompt “sharing”

They don’t get to hang out like this very often. Jiho usually comes over, to, as he puts it, annoy Minho into acknowledging his existence, but rarely do Jiho and Seungyoon ever catch up. They’re in Seungyoon’s just-the-right-size bedroom, Jiho stretched out on Seungyoon’s just-the-right-size bed, while Seungyoon looks for his phone charger. He knocks over everything on his bedside table trying to find it in the clutter while Jiho watches him curiously.

“I had it last night, I think. Or I didn’t. My phone was almost flat this morning, so I used Jinwoo-hyung’s charger. But it’s here. Somewhere.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it,” Jiho says, humour evident in his voice.

“You could look, too.” Seungyoon starts opening the drawers, pushing aside the t-shirts in there before he picks them up and dumps them on the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

“How am I supposed to find anything in this carefully controlled chaos if you can’t?” He yawns, stretches out to his full length, and Seungyoon chooses to look away instead of imagining him doing that naked. At the very least, if he’s looking down at the floor Jiho won’t see it on his face. 

“With your eyes and hands,” Seungyoon says. He kicks over the carefully controlled chaos on his floor, including the t-shirts he’s just dropped, his headphones, underwear, shoes, a blanket, miscellaneous rubbish.

“Maybe one of the cats took it,” Jiho says, as the door opens, “I bet it was Jhonny.”

“What was Jhonny?” Minho asks, the door clicking shut behind him. Even though Jiho’s on the bed, the room is crowded with the three of them, and Seungyoon bumps into Minho when he turns around. 

“I can’t find my charger,” Seungyoon says. “My phone’s dead.”

Minho gives him a stony look even as he stops Seungyoon from stepping on him. “My princess would never.” He sits on Seungyoon’s bed at Jiho’s feet, moving around until he’s comfortable, and Jiho puts his feet in Minho’s lap. They’re so comfortable with each other, not that Seungyoon isn’t, but they’ve known each other for so long, and he envies that, having a friendship that close that has shared the same experiences as him for almost ten years. He and Minho are practically there, but they’ve only known each other four years, and he and Jiho even less. 

Seungyoon almost gives up before he drops to his knees and looks under the bed. It’s there, pushed about a foot underneath, and he reaches for it.

“What is _this_ ,” comes Jiho’s voice, and Seungyoon sees the mattress and slats dip as Jiho moves around on the bed.

“What?” he asks when he sits back on his heels with the charger in his hand. Jiho’s holding something and has a look on his face like it’s his birthday and he’s found his present. He pulls the cap off and turns it until the tip peeks out. “Oh,” Seungyoon says. He’s not embarrassed, really, it’s just that—it’s his. No one else needs to know.

“Why do you have lipstick?” Minho asks. There’s no judgement in his voice, no laughter in his expression like the glee and surprise in Jiho’s.

Seungyoon shrugs. “Kiss Radio. They, uh, never asked for it back.”

“I didn’t watch it,” Jiho says, dabbing at the tip with his finger and then holding it out to Seungyoon. “Can you give me a preview?”

“Hyung.” Seungyoon takes the lipstick off him, ignoring Jiho’s red fingertip and the thought of it pressed against his lips.

“But why do you have it?” 

Seungyoon really wishes Minho knew better than to ask so many questions. He turns it until the tip is no longer poking out so he can put the cap back on before Jiho’s hand comes out to still him. His finger smears red on the back of Seungyoon’s index finger. 

“Put it on,” he says, and he’s probably mostly joking, but it sounds like the kind of challenge Seungyoon has a hard time resisting. When Seungyoon says, “Okay,” a few interesting emotions flash across Jiho’s face. Jiho takes out his phone and opens the front-facing camera, tracking the movement when Seungyoon wets his lips and looks at his reflection.

It’s not that hard, but he’s not sure if the mood calls for a show or if Jiho’s going to take a picture and laugh it off. He’s not sure why he would put himself in that position other than maybe Jiho might understand what he gets out of doing it, but he applies it anyway and rubs his lips together when he’s finished, glancing back up to Jiho, whose mouth is open, and Minho, who has an expression on his face Seungyoon’s never seen before.

After a prolonged silence in which none of them move, Seungyoon asks, “Well?” and Jiho blinks.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You look cute. Wanna go out with me?”

Seungyoon bites his lip to stop from laughing and tastes the sweetness of the wax. Jiho’s gaze flits between Seungyoon’s face and the lipstick in his hand.

“What do you think, Minho-yah?”

Minho’s reply is soft but immediate. “You should put in on hyung.” He has the same expression Seungyoon can’t read, except it’s deeper now, more serious, more intense.

Jiho’s eyebrows rise as he looks back and forth between them, Seungyoon smirking and Minho staring. “Okay,” he says, “let me get into position,” before he pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed. Seungyoon follows him, kneeling between Jiho’s thighs, placing one hand on one and lifting the other with the lipstick. As they shuffle around Minho pulls himself closer for a better view.

“Pucker up.” 

Jiho pushes his lips out—the bottom one is so full he barely has to—and Seungyoon presses the tip against his skin there. They’re soft and the lipstick spreads easily, Jiho’s breath ghosting over Seungyoon’s hand. Minho draws a breath next to them, a sound that’s harsh in the otherwise silent room. No one can draw attention to it without also drawing attention to how ridiculous this whole situation is, how heavy the air feels, how Seungyoon feels a little turned on and probably the others do as well, but, if they did, it might save their friendships from what Seungyoon is sure is going to happen when he finishes applying the lipstick. He ticks off the seconds, drawing it out as much as he can, but he finishes quickly anyway, and Jiho copies him by rubbing his lips together. 

It suits him. The colour, the product. Seungyoon only has to glance at Minho to know that he’s not the only one who wants to kiss Jiho right now. It’s written all over Minho’s face, and Jiho must notice too, because he laughs. Minho blushes, says, “What,” his voice stripped of all defence, “you look good. Both of you.” He’s meets Seungyoon’s eye and holds it, and Seungyoon can feel the intensity of it right down to his gut.

He feels a hand on his chin directing his gaze back to Jiho, who’s smirking now, pushing his lips out. “I think he wants us to kiss,” he says, and it’s both a joke and another challenge. When Seungyoon looks back at Minho it’s confirmed: he puts his hands in his lap as if that will stop them both from noticing that he’s hard, and once Seungyoon does, he can feel his mind clouding with the thought of seeing Minho’s erection. 

“Don’t,” Seungyoon says, his mouth dry. 

“I won’t,” Jiho says, snapping Seungyoon’s attention back to him. “I wasn’t really going to.”

“No I meant—yes, you should kiss me.”

“What? Really?”

Seungyoon nods. He reaches out with the hand still holding the lipstick and touches the edge of Jiho’s bottom lip, just touching, pressing down hard enough that he could smear it if he wanted to. Jiho’s tongue pokes out and licks the tip of Seungyoon’s finger so softly, barely a touch that leaves only a spot of wetness behind. Minho draws another sharp breath and it hits in contrast to the way Seungyoon starts breathing heavily. With his other hand he clutches the back of Jiho’s neck and brings him down until their mouths are an inch apart, giving him time to back out if he wants to. The seconds stretch on with them practically sharing breath while Seungyoon studies Jiho’s lips, until Jiho says, “You’re such a tease,” and leans down to close the distance.

It’s soft at first, but it turns heated quickly, Jiho licking at the seam of Seungyoon’s lips until Seungyoon lets him in to suck on his tongue. His hand touches the base of Seungyoon’s neck, pushes Seungyoon’s shirt out of the way to touch his collarbone. They kiss until Minho makes a low sound and they break away to look at him. He looks startled, as if he had forgotten they knew he was still here, not a secret voyeur but an active participant. 

“Fuck. It’s all over your mouth.”

Seungyoon touches his lips. He didn’t even feel it while they were kissing. “Oh.” He opens the lipstick tube again and applies more, keeping eye contact with Minho this time, whose chest rises visibly with each in-breath. 

“You’re a good kisser.” Jiho looks a little dazed but lets Seungyoon apply more lipstick on him, not bothering to wipe off the residue that’s discolouring the skin around his mouth.

“You want more?” 

It’s kind of a joke. It’s not really a joke. Jiho’s a good kisser too and Seungyoon hasn’t had enough yet, and the thought of kissing him again makes his mouth water. Jiho nods and leans down again before Seungyoon says, “Wait,” and gets to his feet. Both of them watch him, looking like they’re anticipating his movements, as he puts one knee on the bed and swings the other over Jiho’s thighs to settle in his lap. Jiho swallows and his pupils are blown enough that it’s clear he’s turned on, but Seungyoon still asks, “Is this okay?”, ready to stand again if Jiho says no.

Instead, Jiho nods, and his come up to Seungyoon’s hips to keep him in place. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low, “give me more.” Seungyoon can hear in the silence between them all the sound of traffic outside, floating in through the open window, almost drowned by the sound of his heart beating in his ears, urging him on. The kiss is more intense this time, deeper, Jiho pulling Seungyoon to him until their chests are flush. Seungyoon doesn’t know if he should, but they’ve already come this far; he grinds his hips down and feels Jiho’s dick trapped between them.

Jiho breaks off to groan in frustration, biting down on the exposed part of Seungyoon’s collarbone, leaving the outline of his lips there. 

“Too much?”

“Fuck, not if you want to make me hard.”

Oh. Seungyoon does, he wants that. He wants to feel Jiho pressed up against him. Jiho looks a mess with lipstick all over his face, and Seungyoon must look the same—worse, with his shirt tugged down, his hair still a mess from the shower he took an hour ago. He turns to Minho again, who started this, who looks sort of like he regrets it but mostly like he doesn’t. His erection is obvious now, and it turns Seungyoon on to think he has that effect on him.

“What should we do now, Minho-yah?” His voice comes out low and Jiho’s hands squeeze his hips.

“You should,” Minho starts, pausing as if maybe he doesn’t have the words, or has too many of them to choose, “touch each other. Yeah.”

Jiho seems to be on board with that, pushing his hands up under Seungyoon’s shirt, warm and sure as they explore Seungyoon’s body. Seungyoon’s thought about this—Jiho’s hands on him, touching him—but only in passing, only when he allows himself in the hours before he’s fully asleep or fully awake, imagining that the fingers around himself are Jiho’s. He’s thought about Minho, too, in a less visceral way: Minho’s scent, the taste of him like coffee, maybe, or sharp like blood, the pulsing feeling in his veins when Minho gives him that look— _that_ look, where his expression turns adoring and soft. Seungyoon’s caught it out of the corner of his eye, seen the pictures. No one could fake that look. 

His shirt, already tacky with sweat in places, is loose enough that Jiho can lift it off him instead of bothering with the buttons, and Seungyoon does the same for him, tossing Jiho’s shirt behind him, touching him now, fingers lingering on the folds of his stomach. He’s been working too hard lately, looks like he’s wasting away, but Seungyoon touches his shoulders and chest and feels how real he is. 

The next kiss is softer, more sensual. Seungyoon touches Jiho’s jaw and Jiho traces his fingers lightly over Seungyoon’s back, just taking the time to feel each other. When it deepens again, Seungyoon is hardpressed to call it anything other than passionate, and even though Minho makes another frustrated noise they don’t stop this time. Seungyoon grinds down on Jiho’s lap again and Jiho groans into his mouth, hitching him closer to encourage him.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come.”

“Just from this?” Seungyoon teases.

“Yeah,” Jiho says, “because it’s you.”

Seungyoon ignores the rush of blood pounding in his ears and turns his attention back to Minho. “What do you think, Minho-yah? Should I get him off?” Minho nods, seemingly incapable of making speech. Jiho reaches for the button on Seungyoon’s shorts but Seungyoon says, “Wait,” again, and stops him with a better idea. In a few seconds he’s back on the floor, pushing his way between Jiho’s thighs, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

“Fuck,” Minho says, and Seungyoon watches him grind the heel of his palm against himself. He wants that, too, but one thing at a time. 

“Seungyoon-ah, you don’t have to,” Jiho says, as if it’s an imposition, as if Seungyoon doesn’t want this so much his mouth is watering, as if Seungyoon hasn’t thought about getting his mouth around Jiho, tasting him, for months now. 

“I might cry if I don’t,” Seungyoon says, and Jiho laughs. It only takes a few seconds for Seungyoon to apply another coat of lipstick, and Jiho’s laugh cuts out. “Please let me do this, hyung.” Jiho nods and leans back on his hands for Seungyoon to take him out, already hard but hardening more as soon as Seungyoon starts to stroke him. When he lowers his mouth to the tip of Jiho’s cock he hears a whimper, but who it comes from he can’t tell. 

The salty flavour of him hits Seungyoon’s taste buds instantly, urging him to take Jiho in until he sinks down to the base. He tastes a little bit like sweat, but it’s not a bad taste; Seungyoon likes it, the things bodies do in the heat of summer, the aliveness of Jiho. He feels and hears Minho move off the bed to kneel beside him, placing a hand on Seungyoon’s shoulder that’s followed by his lips. Seungyoon takes the hand that’s on Jiho’s knee and grabs for Minho, trying to touch him where he can without breaking contact with Jiho. It ends up on Minho’s thigh, and Minho’s hand comes to cover it.

“You’re doing so well,” Jiho says. “Tell him, Minho-yah. Isn’t he doing so well?” Jiho strokes a hand through Seungyoon’s hair, encouraging him lightly, and Seungyoon takes the initiative to start bobbing his head. 

Minho clears his throat. “How’s it feel?”

“ _So good_ ,” Jiho says, “so fucking good, fuck, I’m going to come,” a second before he floods Seungyoon’s mouth with more of his taste. Seungyoon takes as much of it as he can, feeling some of it drip down his chin, before he pulls away to turn to Minho, whose mouth is stained like Jiho's lipstick has rubbed off on him. All the warning Seungyoon can give him is a hand on his jaw before he kisses him, pushing his tongue into Minho’s mouth and along with it Jiho’s load. Minho makes a noise of surprise but he doesn’t pull away; he kisses Seungyoon more fervently, sucking on his tongue, pushing him down until he’s on his back and Minho’s settling his weight on him.

From then, it’s nothing more than shorts pushed down enough for Minho to wrap a hand around them both and start stroking, but even the feeling of Minho’s hand on him is overwhelming, he can’t imagine what it would be like to have Minho’s cock in him, or Jiho’s, or—or both, at once—he wants everything. He comes with that thought of them filling him up, so hard he spurts onto his own chest and chin. He considers blowing Minho too, but Minho comes a second later, adding to the mess on Seungyoon’s body.

Minho eases down beside him, flush against his body. “That was so much better,” Minho says, losing his thread.

“So much better than what?” 

“Than I imagined.”

Seungyoon laughs, he can’t help it. Not that he hasn’t imagined the same thing, but he still asks, “You did? When?”

“Only every day since we met.” Minho blushes again and pushes his face into Seungyoon’s shoulder. 

Sometime while Minho and Seungyoon were busy, Jiho lay down on the bed, on his side to watch them. He moves onto his stomach now so he can reach Seungyoon’s hand, tangling their fingers together. His mouth is still smeared red, looking like it’s bruised instead of stained, and Seungyoon likes it. It’s a good look on him.


End file.
